A Lie Cannot Live
by randomthoughts.917
Summary: Cammie Morgan had a legacy to fulfill in the spy business, but she mysteriously disappeared from the world at the end of her senior year. Six years later, an assassin turns herself in to the CIA with a message.


A/N: Enjoy!

*o*o*o*

1: Sub-level Seven

The CIA headquarters in Langley consisted of a building with thirty-three floors that seemed completely ordinary to any unaware passer-by. The first three levels were dedicated to a fully functioning bank, for the obvious reasons. But every floor above that was filled with analysts, agents, and highly classified information. There were also seven levels below ground that contained the core of the headquarters and required a level three clearance to enter.

It was the hallway of sub-level seven that Rebecca Baxter found herself walking down, a thin manila folder clutched tightly in her right hand. Several experimental light bulbs hung from the ceiling, illuminating the walls in a dim blue glow. The hallway branched off into small rooms that were mainly used for file storage, but she passed them without a second thought, her gaze fixed on the last door.

It was like any other door on that floor – black, dull, and seemingly untouched. But Rebecca noticed the lack of dust on the doorknob, and immediately knew that someone was already inside. She stopped and clenched her jaw. She stood there for a full minute as thoughts racing through her mind by the second. Then, with a deep breath, she grasped the handle, turned it, and stepped inside.

Her eyes instantly went to the window to her right, but the blinds were shut. Then she turned to the tall, muscular man that leaned against the second door in the room. They nodded to each other before Rebecca tossed the folder onto the small metal table in the corner of the room.

The man raised an eyebrow. "You haven't opened it yet."

"I don't need to," she replied coolly. She closed the door behind her and moved to stand in front of the closed blinds. "Is it confirmed?"

He nodded once. "You don't believe Johnson?"

Rebecca was silent for a moment as she recalled what had taken place just minutes before.

*o*o*o*

She had arrived on sub-level three only to realize that something was wrong. Agents and analysts alike were rushing in all directions, looking panicked. That was unusual for CIA operatives; they were trained to remain calm under all circumstances. And yet their eyes were wide, their breathing irregular, their faces stricken. Now wary, Rebecca slowly took a step forward, but was nearly run over by a young man carrying a box of files.

He froze when he realized who she was. "Ms. Baxter!" he stuttered.

She raised an eyebrow. "What's going on here?"

He blinked several times before slowly backing away. "I-I can't say! You'll have to talk to Ms. Johnson. I am so sorry." And with that, he disappeared around the corner.

Rebecca contemplated his words for a second before making her way towards the office of the Deputy head of operations. She had to use her fast reflexes to dodge several people before she managed to reach the familiar frosted glass door. Erica Johnson sat at her desk with her hands clasped, an unreadable expression in her eyes as she looked up at Rebecca.

"Welcome back, Ms. Baxter. Please, sit. And close the door behind you."

Rebecca did as she was asked and sank into the wicker chair directly across from the older woman. Johnson sighed and tapped a thin manila folder that lay on her desk. "You are probably wondering why our operatives are running around headquarters like the world is about the end. I will tell you what the CIA currently knows, with confidence that you will do everything in your power to aid the situation."

Rebecca nodded slowly, her apprehension rising.

"Very good." Johnson leaned back in her chair. Her tone was all business. "At one o'clock this morning, several alarms went off in the Oval Office. Secret Service rushed to the room and found an assassin standing behind the President with a knife to his neck. So far what we know is that the assassin was captured before the President was harmed." She leaned forward and looked Rebecca in the eye. "Our information is severely limited, and every White House official alive seems to want answers."

As if on cue, the telephone on her desk began to ring shrilly. Johnson quickly picked up the receiver and then slammed it down again. The ringing stopped. She clasped her hands together. "They can't figure out how the assassin managed to get into the White House unnoticed, and so they've decided that it's our job to figure it out. However, the security camera's were jammed at the time, of course. So our only source of information will have to come straight from the culprit."

"You want me to interrogate him?" Rebecca asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

Johnson's face became completely devoid of emotion as she tapped the folder again and said, "It was a she, Ms. Baxter. The assassin was a she."

Rebecca processed the new information before demanding, "Why are you telling me this?"

Johnson stared at her for an excruciating minute. She knew that she didn't need to answer.

Rebecca immediately began to shake her head. "No." Her voice was cold. "I know what you're trying to say, who you're trying to blame. It's impossible."

"Is it?" Johnson tossed the folder in front of Rebecca, her voice suddenly brisk. "Proceed to the interrogation room on sub-level seven. Agent Nasser is acting as security detail. You know your orders."

*o*o*o*

"Or is it that you didn't want to believe her?" Nasser said, breaking through Rebecca's thoughts. He pushed himself off of the door and continued, "I know that your relationship with the subject is complicated, but we have an assassin in there that threatened the president. Remember that you're a CIA agent now, Baxter."

Rebecca shot him a dark look before grabbing the folder and marching to the door. "I know exactly who I am, Nasser."

She only hesitated a little before turning the handle.


End file.
